Pretender
by The Erumpent Horn
Summary: AJ sits on a bed beside a sleeping CM Punk, considering her role in the WWE and her position of authority. This is based on 'The Pretender' by Foo Fighters. Rated T.


**Hey guys. **

**Another little one shot for you - one that came to me out of essentially nowhere. I think it fits, and I think it works. This is based from the song _The Pretender_ by Foo Fighters. It's a great song, and I like Punk/AJ as a pairing anyway, so I decided to squish them together.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't really need to say it, but I in no way own WWE, their storylines, their wrestlers, and I will not be making any money from this, yada yada yada. I also in no way own The Pretender, Foo Fighters, and I will make no money from this. Need I go on?**

**As always, you know where I am. Enjoy.**

* * *

They all pretended to like her, to care for her. She knew that and she didn't resent them for it. At least they had the decency to pretend like they gave a shit about her so called 'mental instability'. And then there was the storyline. The storyline that was only partly fictional. Yes, she was the real life ex-girlfriend of Bryan Danielson, who had dumped her shortly after Wrestlemania. Yes, she liked CM Punk, and no, she wasn't really pretending to enjoy the kisses she'd planted on him as per the script. The only purely scripted thing of the whole mess was Kane. AJ and Kane were cool in real life, but he was like a father figure. It had truly felt gross when they'd kissed, but they had to do what they had to do.

She looked at the WWE Champion again. They were together in the loosest semblance of the word. When he couldn't sleep, he'd DM her. If she was awake, she'd sneak to his room, or his bus depending on where they were. When they were alone together, they'd play video games and somehow end up screwing each other's brains out. At that moment, she was sat on the bed next to his sleeping form, her knees hugged to her chest. A lone tear rolled down her cheeks. Even Punk pretended to care. He didn't know he was pretending, but he was. They all were.

It was laughable really. AJ knew for a fact that she was sane. She did these things because that was what was needed, not because she couldn't control herself. Of course, people talked. They kept her in the dark about anything that could be manipulated and twisted into something insane. Ironically enough, the secrecy was exactly what started the whole 'crazy chick' thing. She was being made a fool of to boost Bryan's fame, his infamy, and she wanted to know exactly what they had planned for her. They wouldn't tell her. She knew deep down that unless she did something… well, _crazy_, she'd be dropped back to NXT and she'd go straight back to being a nobody, exactly like before. She had been sick of being a nobody, and she was desperate. They all pretended like she'd stay with SmackDown and be a star there, but she could see through the lies.

So she'd planted the seeds of doubt. She'd let the waves of insanity roll off her. She'd let her crazy chick vibes get into the heads of the writers and the suits. She kept secrets of her own to rival the secrets of the writers. Punk was the biggest secret. Nobody was to know about their insane relationship. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over. AJ lay back down and Punk rolled back over, throwing an arm across her stomach and laying his head on her chest. He always cuddled up to her when he was asleep. It would have been sweet if she didn't feel so cheap. She was ready to be someone. And that was why, when Vince McMahon suggested that they went off script for the wedding segment during RAW 1000, she agreed. He'd come straight to her with the suggestion of making her GM. Of course she jumped at it. She was the Jersey girl who'd lived in cars and motels growing up. Who was she to turn down the opportunity of being the boss?

She didn't care how _crazy _she had to get, she was going to do it, because she wasn't going to fade back into the background without putting up one hell of a fight. She was ready for this. Her actions didn't have to make sense – hell, since April, they hadn't been anyway. She was playing with the big boys, and it was going to keep on going for as long as she could help it.

The thing is, AJ wasn't like the other Divas. She wasn't sexy, or a model. She was a different kind of girl, and she didn't want to play by those stereotypical Diva rules any more. She was not going to strip to her bra and panties. She was not going to be in Playboy magazine, and she was certainly not going to be on the cover of Maxim, or on their Hot 100 list. And she was perfectly fine with that. She didn't want to be any of those things. She wanted to be successful on her terms.

"It's only a matter of time!"

That's what they kept telling her. It was only a matter of time before she was forced to step down. It was only a matter of time before they made her see a psychiatrist. It was only a matter of time before CM Punk – who was degenerating into a complete asshole before her very eyes – ditched her like everyone else did. She looked at Punk again. He was himself when he was asleep. He was sweet and kind and sort of romantic. Her situation – her position of power – it was temporary. She sighed to herself before speaking her thoughts aloud. "We're all temporary. Nothing is permanent in this sorry excuse for a life."

Punk stirred again, his dark hair flopping over his forehead like a four year old with a bowl cut. She wasn't going to keep playing their game. They thought they had her by puppet strings. They thought they were playing her. She was playing them. She was playing the whole godforsaken system. She was even playing Punk. It didn't matter how much she cared for him, any time she wanted to, she could leave him high and dry. On more than a few occasions, he had woken up to find not a trace of her around, and then he'd call her, or tweet her, or come looking for her himself to ask if it had all been a fucked up dream. She wasn't going to surrender the control. She was going to keep hold of it for as long as she could.

They didn't want to listen to her. Fine. They barely wanted to look at her. Even better. She screwed with their heads, and opposed them at every turn just because she could. Best. She was the General Manager. If she wanted to really mess them up, she could fire them. She did truly have that power. Who were they to keep things from her, pretend to care, try to use her? She could take them all down, physically, mentally and theoretically.

They wanted to pretend, and that was okay. But if they thought she wasn't going to play her part in the pretence, they were crazier than they thought she was. She could pretend like the best of them.

"AJ," murmured Punk sleepily. AJ looked at him and smiled her sweetest smile. "What time is it?"

"Four forty-five. Good morning," she said brightly. Punk groaned and pulled her closer. His forehead touched to hers gently, and he opened his eyes. His green eyes stared right into her brown ones and he smiled sleepily at her. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, and she closed the tiny gap between them and placed her lips gently on his. He kissed her back just as softly, and she pulled back to gaze into his sleepy, open, honest face.

"Morning." Punk sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. He lazily kissed her neck before his eyes closed again. The insomniac went straight back to sleep, holding her close.

"We all pretend," said AJ with a small sigh.


End file.
